Natalie

The Eldest Holmes

I sat criss-cross in the den of 221B, eating pizza with Molly and a rather pregnant Mary. Mary's had a scoop of chocolate ice cream melted on top. We were watching Doctor Who and listening to Fall Out Boy's Save Rock and Roll album as loud as it would allow. It was both absurd and reasonable. Which frustrated me, but I was pretty relaxed. Apparently, this is what you do after a painful breakup. So, there I sat, my hair still pulled into it's ponytail, now a bit disheveled, but in my pj's instead of my 'ninja outfit'.

"I just want to eat pizza and hit something." I said, my mouth full, in between songs.

"Then lets go get something for you to hit." Molly stated simply, pulling herself onto her feet and then going over to help Mary.

Molly and Mary managed to get Mary into a standing position, her hand resting on her ever large stomach."Do you still have that punching bag? or did you break it?" She added, a smirk playing across her face.

I grinned back, "Downstairs. I think now would be a good time to break it though." I winked and spun on my heels, making my way down the steps. I knew they were right behind me, so I left my door open. I crossed the room and looked at the punching bag for a moment before punching it right where a face should have been. I proceeded to kick and punch until tears of pain and fury were rolling down my cheeks in a continuous flow. I yelled loudly (unsure as to whether it was hurt or anger driving the sound from my body), and gave a final kick before the chain suspending the bag broke (unhinged, rather) and it collapsed onto the floor.

I followed suit.

I remained unaware of any of their presence as I sobbed on the carpet. Not until Sherlock picked me up, still able to carry me, and brought me past everyone back upstairs. John was helping Mary and Molly followed Sherlock silently as he sat down in his chair, just cradling me, like he had done so many times before. The entire room remained silent, Sherlock encasing me in compassion, Molly and Mary in understanding, and John stood firm, the same reassuring glint in his eyes I had always found. And all of them, with Love. We remained like this for about an hour, until finally I began to calm down. Then something unexpected and rather peculiar happened.

Someone was quickly ascending the staircase. I sat up, perplexed. Mary, who was nuzzled beside John on his left side(The one closest to the door) was being guided behind a very alert John's back. She went willingly, though her face showed clear resentment. Sherlock's head was perked up, but his hands remained where they were, wrapping me in a hug and holding me near him. Molly took a step closer to stand beside John, and in front of me and Sherlock.

"Dammit, Mycroft." Sherlock sighed through his nose after two seconds of silence after the original noise. He stood, placed me gently in his chair, and crossed the floor in three steps, meeting his brother at the door. I knew it was him the moment I saw his face. Hint traces of resemblance, very subtle ones, the way they held themselves being the only immediate similarity. "What do you what?"

"Nice to see you too, dear Brother." The older Holmes said from the doorway, causing Sherlock to just roll his eyes. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"No." Sherlock stated automatically. They got along pretty well, but I knew why Sherlock was so reluctant today; In all the years I had been with the younger Holmes, I had never met his brother and now was not the greatest time. I had already composed myself by now, sitting calmly in Sherlock's chair, but my eyes and face were still red enough that Mycroft wouldn't have any trouble telling I had been crying. It wouldn't take too much longer to deduce his brother had been the one holding me, and I knew Dad didn't want that.

Dispite what his brother said, Mycroft walked past Sherlock and in the door. "John, I'm not going to hurt her, you can relax. Mary darling, you're looking well." He gave a genuine smile and fixed his eyes to me. He went right past Molly and stuck out his hand out to me. "Natalie, we haven't had the pleasure of meeting. Mycroft Holmes." I looked from his outstretched hand to Sherlock. Sherlock looked perfectly regular, to anyone but me that is. His eyes were practically burning with concealed annoyance, his body language was tighter and tenser than usual. Because of this, I did exactly what John had told me in preparation in this event.